Strip Clubs Are For Chumps

We went into the city to see Trish dance topless at the club. Trish didn’t give us very good directions to get to the joint though and I was worried we may not be able to find the place. Fortunately my friend Gabe lives on 43rd Avenue and he didn’t have anything better to do for the evening so we picked him up and he knew exactly where this strip club was located. That helped lower my stress levels. I always get stressed out fast trying to find places in the city for the first time. Coincidentally the strip joint was near the art college Gabe has been attending. The tit-bar was fucking expensive. It was 20 bucks per dude and 10 per wench. I only brought 40 bucks with me because Trish told Jennifer it was 10 per dude and wenches were free. That wasn’t the case. I explained what we were told to the girl cashier at the door, and grudgingly paid the 40 dollars for Gabe and myself to get in. Jennifer ended up getting in for free and because I complained to the girl at the cash register she gave me two free passes for my next visit just so I would shut up. I probably won’t be making a next visit though.

There was an ATM in the lobby so I got another 20 dollar bill and followed Gabe and Jennifer to a table. They were being led by a little blonde cocktail waitress in a tight gold minidress. When I caught up with them, Jennifer was already looking for her friends that were supposed to be meeting us there. As we sat down Jennifer spotted a couple of her coworkers from the coffee shop and tore off in their direction. The instant my ass hit the chair a waitress came out of fucking nowhere and asked us if we both wanted drinks. Of course we did, but after seeing how expensive it was to get in to the strip joint I was reluctant to start ordering stuff without getting some prices first. The waitress told us that mixed drinks from the bar were $9.50 and most beers were $8.50. I said “Ouch!” to the waitress and asked “What’s cheapest here?” Miller, was her response. It was $5.75 a glass. That was still rough, but better than a watered down rum and coke at $9.50. I looked at Gabe and told him it was going to be a Miller night. I could tell by the look on his face he was also shocked at how expensive the drinks were.

A few minutes later our waitress came back with our beers and as she set them down on the table she jokingly said, “It’s Miller time!” I think she was a little sympathetic to how much we were getting price gouged on the drinks, and maybe she even felt a little sorry for us. I paid for the beers and tipped the waitress a couple of extra bones then Gabe and I moved to an empty table right behind where Jennifer sat down with her friends from work. Jennifer looked fucking beautiful. She had on a tight black miniskirt, white nylons, pointy little black shoes, and a skin tight blue top. I made sure she didn’t notice, but I kept checking her out. As the strippers came out onto the stage one by one and started doing their routines revealing their breasts, I realized that even the dancers with huge fake tits didn’t compare against Jennifer’s mighty 36D’s. I felt proud.

Meanwhile, girls in tight skimpy mesh minidresses were wandering around through the seated crowd pimping themselves out for lap dances and attempting to lure customers to the VIP rooms in the back. Some of the more attractive ones came over to where Gabe and I sat. Funny thing was, none of them stopped to talk to Gabe. Not the good looking ones anyway. They came over to me and introduced themselves. Each time they tried to get me to take a lap dance from them, I politely declined. Then they would get up from the table and walk past Gabe without even looking at him twice. It was like he didn’t exist. Jennifer also noticed the women were giving Gabe the brush off. She pointed at him and laughed a few times when a dancer wouldn’t stop to talk to him. It was kinda funny. I think the reason they didn’t pay him any attention was he didn’t dress up for going out on the town. He looked grubby in his worn out shirt and jeans. The dancers probably figured he was broke, and they were right. He was.

One of the girls decided to talk to Gabe after I told her I wasn’t interested in a lap dance. I could just catch some of their conversation over the loud music being blasted into the stage area. She sat down next to him and asked him what his name was. “Gabriel.” He told her. “Oh, like the angel?” She said. “Uh, yeah. Sort of. An angel of Satan!” Gabe yelled at her. The dancer mumbled some junk I couldn’t hear and then put forth her best fake smile and walked away. I really laughed hard when I heard Gabe say the angel of Satan bit. He’s a total dork but I had to give him credit for that one.

Trish eventually made an appearance on the floor. Her routine on the center stage was okay but after seeing a half dozen other girls perform before her, it got a little boring. It was an interesting opportunity to see one of Jennifer’s coworkers topless, but I never thought of Trish as being very attractive so she didn’t keep my attention for long. I did have a great time watching her milk a geeky blonde haired muscular looking guy for every last dollar in his wallet. That was damn amusing. I could tell she was really enjoying working this poor slob over and I knew that no matter what he did, he wasn’t going to be getting her phone number or into her pants or anything. He wanted to pick up on her bad. Then he bought two lap dances in a row from her and he bought a club T-shirt for her to sign or some shit. As the night wore on, he followed Trish around the club like a lost puppy. That was when it stopped being funny for me to watch and it all became pathetic. It was depressing. See, Trish is lesbian so no guy at the club was going to be getting any play from Trish under any circumstances. She told me many of the girls working at the strip joint as dancers were only into girls. It hadn’t occurred to me some of them would be lesbian, but after I thought about it some, it made alot of sense.

While Trish was dancing on the center stage, Jennifer pulled three one dollar bills out of her purse and handed one each to me and Gabe. She kept one for herself. After we had the loot in our mitts, Jennifer instructed both Gabe and I to walk up to Trish and put the money in her panties. At first, I didn’t want to do it, and neither did Gabe. I thought about it quickly and reconsidered. What the hell. I walked up alongside the dancefloor and stood there like a complete idiot holding out the single dollar bill for all to see. Trish danced her way over to me and gracefully put one of her arms behind my skull, the other arm was covering her scrawny boobies. She whispered into my ear, “How am I doing?” I stuffed the dollar down her panties and lied to her. “You’re all right” I said. She smiled and danced away from me. Gabe and Jennifer went up to the stage one at a time after I sat back down at our table. I laughed watching Jennifer with a half naked woman putting money in her G-string. So silly.

We left at one in the morning. I was exhausted. I wanted to drop Gabe off at his place and head straight home to crash out. By the time we got back to his crummy apartment on 43rd I had to piss so bad my toes were curling up in my shoes and I couldn’t see straight. As soon as we got inside I jammed into the bathroom and leaked for a really long time. It felt so good to pee, that a self satisfied smirk broke across my face.

I don’t expect I’ll waste my time in a topless club ever again. It didn’t do much for me. While I have to admit there were some truly beautiful women there, none of the dancers gave me a boner. Lap dances are for retardeds. I was annoyed with the expense of getting in and the steep prices on drinks. Watching losers have their wallets expertly drained of cash by women who could care less about them seemed depressing to me. And observing desperate men dishing out that cash with the remote hope of getting to pick up on a stripper was even more depressing. I think I could have a better time at home with a mid-grade bottle of red wine and a shoddy porno magazine. Save me a bunch of loot, too.